


Another Story About You

by luxpermanet



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxpermanet/pseuds/luxpermanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another lifetime, Levi is the voice of Night Vale and Erwin Smith is the town Sheriff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Story About You

**Author's Note:**

> Night Vale has taken over my soul.

Today marks Levi’s first year as the broadcaster for Night Vale Community Radio. Exactly three hundred and sixty-five days prior, Intern Levi had walked into the booth to find it empty save for a memo from Station Management  simply stating that he would be taking over the post immediately. Shortly after, one of the Sheriff’s Secret Police had climbed through one of the station windows to inform Levi that both Cecil Palmer and Carlos the Scientist had managed to skip town. At that time, Levi couldn’t quite believe the news—people who had been born and bred in Night Vale had always been unable to leave the city. He’d even checked Cecil’s apartment and Carlos’ lab to confirm the reports. Both locations had been swept clean. It was as if Carlos the Scientist had never come to Night Vale.

 

It was as if Cecil Palmer had never even existed.

 

But Levi supposes he should have seen it coming. He had gleaned nothing from Cecil; that was certain. Carlos, however, was a scientist—and he did not always live in Night Vale.  He was a very intelligent man. When he was off station duty, Levi would help out at Carlos’ lab from time to time. Some of his finding had impressed Levi. He’d never known there was a shitload of little people with anger management issues living beneath the bowels of the bowling alley. He hadn’t known that one could possibly ring the doorbell of The House That Does Not Exist, either. Somehow, Carlos had found a way to take Cecil out of Night Vale, and he’d never had the chance to tell Levi how.

 

He isn’t that quite interested to find out yet, though. Night Vale Community Radio needed a voice. As the only surviving Intern who had not been displaced by time and space, it had been his duty to take over the microphone. As of this evening, he’s been doing it for exactly three hundred and sixty-five days.

 

Levi peers around the booth in search of one of his station Interns. “Yo, Intern Horseface. Have you checked the emails? There might be something worth mentioning in today’s new report.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re still having me scroll through all these emails even if that third eye mumbo jumbo Cecil has unconsciously passed on you works like a fucking charm!” Intern Jean complains. “You can see _everything_ when you switch that shit on.” 

 

“Old Woman Josie’s updates usually come to me via email,” Levi reminds him. “It’s probably because one of the Erikas acquired a new laptop recently. I think it was the black one.”

 

“That explains that, then.” Intern Jean’s computer mouse makes the strangest sound when he scrolls. Levi suspects that Khoshekh has something to do with it. The mouse does have the tendency to sprout a tail from time to time. “We have some crap from Steve Carlsberg, but I doubt you’d be interested in that. Dana’s got some news; I’ll print hers out for you.”

 

“Just leave the important ones on my desk. I have to go live now.” Levi slips his headphones on and flips the switch on the microphone.

 

“Tonight is going to be a horrible night. But you probably know that by now—what kind of citizen would you be if you didn’t? And what kind of broadcaster would I be if I failed to remind you? Welcome to Night Vale.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Levi is more than used to the Sheriff’s Secret Police’s silent yet intrusive nature. He sees one or two of them hanging around—quite literally, mind you—in the vicinity of his apartment building. Sometimes, they peek through his windows, obviously interested in the content of the text messages he sends out (highly scarce) and the phone calls that he makes (even more scarce). Levi has never had much to hide; unlike Cecil, he has always been a boring citizen of Night Vale. This is why he doesn’t mind it when the Sheriff’s Secret Police wanders into his home in search of a cup of tea. There is simply nothing to find.

 

He is, however, surprised to hear one of them speak to him one night.

 

“Tomorrow’s broadcast will be about You.”

 

Levi blinks. He knows about You, yes. He had already been interning at the station when Cecil had gone off-course one night to tell a story about You. You had gotten into trouble by snatching up a crate containing one of the miniature houses. The story had ended quite abruptly, with You simply reaching out to that hulk of a planet. He’d tried to ask Cecil about what would happen, but Cecil had only smiled, pecked Levi on the forehead and asked him to please feed Khoshekh.

 

He points to his forehead. His third eye, of course, is currently inactive. He’s not allowed to use it outside of broadcast time. “And this handy little talent of mine is going to help me find You?”

 

The Sheriff’s Secret Police says nothing. Levi is more than a little annoyed now; he can’t stand the balaclavas that make the entire force look like one person. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck happened to You. I don’t know what The Man Who Is Not Tall and The Man Who Is Not Short did to You after the broadcast was cut short. I can see everything, but I have _never_ seen You.”

 

“Oh, who am I kidding?” The Sheriff’s Secret Police suddenly sounds like a completely different entity. He pulls out a walkie-talkie from underneath his cloak. “Bert, get in here. Front door’s open.”

 

Another Sheriff’s Secret Police—this one unusually tall—walks into Levi’s apartment as if on cue. To Levi’s surprise, the Sheriff’s Secret Police hooks his fingers underneath his balaclava and pulls it off to reveal an unusually friendly face. “Hello,” the man in question says, holding his hand out to shake. “My name is Bertholdt Fubar. You might know me best as The Man Who Is Not Short.”

 

“And I’m Reiner Braun,” the other one chimes in. He has also pulled off his balaclava. “Everyone knows me as The Man Who Is Not Tall. We’ve been wanting to meet you, Levi.”

 

“…fucking hell,” Levi says blankly. “What the fuck is going on? Am I in trouble or something?”

 

“You’re always in trouble, Levi,” the one named Bertholdt replies matter-of-factly. “It’s not unusual for broadcasters to be in trouble with the City Council due to the rare privilege of Freedom of Speech that has been granted to you. We’d had to deliver some written warnings to Cecil back in the day, but he hardly ever paid them any attention.”

 

The one named Reiner checks his watch. “We don’t have much time, Bert. A few minutes more and City Council will wonder why they have nothing to eavesdrop on. We come on behalf of You, Levi. During tomorrow’s broadcast, you must set your sights on and locate You. Just like when Cecil did it, you will narrate everything you see and will leave nothing out. This will be another story about You.”

 

“I don’t even know You.” Levi remains unconvinced. “I did not have the third sight when Cecil was still in position of it, and we have never discussed You.”

 

Bertholdt slips him an envelope. “This is why You sent us here. Enclosed in this package is a report on You to serve as your reference. Good luck.”

 

“We must take our leave.” Reiner is slipping the balaclava back over his head. “Getting the City Council suspicious is one thing. Getting a Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency suspicious is another matter altogether. Do not forget tomorrow’s agenda, Levi.”

 

The Sheriff’s Secret Police leave as quietly and as suddenly as they had come. Levi drops down on one of his kitchen chairs and tosses the envelope onto the table. The Sheriff’s Secret Police’s seal is intact on its flap. Before he can change his mind, he grabs the envelope and tears it open. It is, after all, part of his job.

 

He’s only being professional.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_“This is yet another story about You. And once again, You are fucking overjoyed. Everyone has wanted to be on the radio at some point in their lives, but no one in Night Vale has ever been as infamous as You. Once upon a time, the man on the radio—then Cecil, and not me—told us a story about You. Tonight, it is Your story, all over again. Welcome to Night Vale.”_

The Sheriff of Night Vale cannot help but smirk. Almost a year ago, he’d been surprised to hear his life story being broadcasted all over Night Vale. He hadn’t been Sheriff then; he’d been one of those outsiders who had wandered into Night Vale like a possessed man. It was strange. He had been a happy man with a well-paying job and a lovely fiancée. One night, he had simply driven off, never to return home. The pull of the planet of awesome size—of a dry, desert town called Night Vale, even—had been too powerful to resist. He had wound up as Sheriff, though. It wasn’t too bad a job.

 

_“The second part of Your story finds You in a new office. You sit there, smiling as You recall the first time You ever heard your story being told on the radio. It has been a different voice back then—sonorous, soothing and somewhat sweet. This new voice is rougher and a bit bored sounding, but it’s alright. What matters is that the man on the radio is still telling Your story. A story about You.”_

“I like him already, this Levi,” the Sheriff says. “He’s certainly not as charming as Cecil, but he has his own appeal. Tell me, how does he look like?”

 

“Well, he’s tiny, to start with,” Reiner offers with a grin. “He’s a beady-eyed, grumpy little thing that somehow reminds me of a stray cat. He’s pretty famous for being Cecil’s longest surviving intern. We don’t usually count Dana; she no longer exists in the same timeframe as we do.”

 

The Sheriff turns his attention back to the broadcast. The man on the radio—Levi—continues to tell his story. _“Contrary to popular belief, You did not get into trouble for stealing the crate. The Man Who Is Not Tall and The Man Who Is Not Short, both members of the Sheriff’s Secret Police, reveal that they have actually been testing You. That crate you stole? That crate with the miniature house? All those crates that they have been paying for You to transfer? They have always been there for the taking—it had only been a matter of when. You see, the Sheriff’s Secret Police have been leaderless for awhile now. While they initially wanted to draw lots from a fishbowl full of piranhas, even the most qualified person for the job will not be able to assume the post if they are ceremonially disembowelled by wolves. Fucking painful, right? Anyway, You took the crate, and You did not open it. You had passed their test. And now, You are Sheriff of Night Vale. How fucking weird is that?”_

He can’t help but agree with the broadcaster. He had really thought that they would arrest him—or worse, bring him in for some sort of re-education. However, Reiner and Bertholdt had, instead, escorted him into a blue helicopter and handed him the key to the office in the clouds. “Congratulations, sir,” Bertholdt had said politely. “You are now the Sheriff of Night Vale.”

 

It had been the strangest day of his life. It had even been stranger than the day he’d left his home to live in Night Vale. But he had given his consent; he had always been curious about Night Vale, and being in a lofty position would be more than advantageous.

 

_“Everything about this makes You ridiculously fucking happy. You can go on a power tripping spree and no one will ever question or challenge Your authority. But that’s not where Your story ends, obviously. You’re—You’re thinking about something else right now. Someone else.”_

The Sheriff grins. He’s been told about the broadcasters’ ability to exercise a certain degree of omniscience when they were in the booth. It’s how the missing broadcaster, Cecil Baldwin, was able to tell the world his story; his story when he everyone had only known him as ‘You’. Levi, the new voice of Night Vale, was often talked about due to his uncanny ability to stay out of trouble. In the past, Cecil had delivered numerous messages of grief to the families of his Interns, who had the tendency to perish or vanish at the strangest times. Levi had been the only one whose career as an Intern had not resulted in certain death. In the Sheriff’s opinion, it took a fair amount of resilience to last in a job governed by Station Management. It had come out of its office once when the Sheriff had invited it for some afternoon tea. He had a bad feeling that Station Management’s emergence had left the staff of Night Vale Community Radio worse for wear.

 

_“At present, Your thoughts are occupied by the new face of Night Vale Community Radio. You have always been curious about m—Levi, Cecil’s former Intern, who is, to some extent, just as infamous as You. He doesn’t deliver reports the way Cecil used to do. He’s far more opinionated, with little to no regard for the rules. You’re surprised that the City Council hasn’t reprimanded him yet. Perhaps they have, but You are simply unaware of it. Of course, he wouldn’t be reprimanded by the Sheriff’s Secret Police; You are in charge of this fine organisation and You are quite, uhm, fond of him. This is why You have asked him to share another story—a story about You.”_

Bertholdt pokes his head into the Sheriff’s office. “Sheriff, the chopper is waiting for you on the third cloud to your left. Shall we depart now?”

 

“Give me a few more moments.” The Sheriff rises from his seat. “I just want to hear what Levi has to say.”

 

_“All this time, You have been listening to the broadcast.  You stand there, smirking, wondering how the man on the radio will react to Your—to Your upcoming…visit?”_

Levi’s voice rises a little on the last word. The Sheriff chuckles. He had always wanted to drop by Night Vale Community Radio to hold a meeting (or exchange post-it notes, rather) with Station Management, but his Sheriff duties kept him holed up in the clouds. Now, he had a good opportunity to personally check in on Night Vale and on its new broadcaster.

 

 _“Listeners, we have a situation.”_ Levi immediately reverts to his usual form of broadcasting. _“You—who is, fucking hell, actually the Sheriff of Night Vale will be dropping by the station to see me. All of this is to take place shortly. For now, I must give you the weather.”_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Levi had never thought that the weather could seem so short and so fleeting. He leaves the booth to sit in the bathroom with Khoshekh, who looks strangely pleased to see him.

 

“He has a new favourite snack,” Intern Jean says, making a face as he drops a periwinkle octopus tentacle into the station cat’s waiting mouth. “I never thought he’d like them raw, though. He completely rejected my offerings of sashimi the other day.”

 

“Well, your sashimi doesn’t wriggle,” Levi points out. “That takes away some of the charm. Also, I refuse to leave this bathroom. You can tell the Sheriff I stepped into the fucking Void.”

 

Intern Jean snorts. “As if he’d believe me. The Void has to actually be here for you to step into it, Levi. And besides, this is the Sheriff of Night Vale we’re talking about. Not everyone gets to meet him.”

 

“I suppose I could make good use of the time and go on air to broadcast the interview,” Levi mutters. “We’re going way off-course with the show today thanks to this guy and his fucking random visit—”

 

“Levi!” Intern Eren hollers. Levi cringes. This one, a former Weird Scout, has always been too loud. He made Intern Horseface (Jean) seem almost gentlemanly. “The Sheriff of Night Vale is here!”

 

Levi mutters a few curses, but gets to his feet nonetheless. He is a professional. He is not allowed to suck at the job that Cecil (ever so carelessly, bless his damned soul) had left behind. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Make yourself useful and serve him some of the juice Old Woman Josie’s Angels sent over yesterday.”

 

He receives an unfamiliar chuckle in response. “And I thought Angels were not supposed to exist. Or that we are not supposed to know anything about them.”

 

The Sheriff of Night Vale has made himself comfortable in Levi’s booth. Unlike the members of his Secret Police, the Sheriff is not wearing a balaclava or a blowdark chestbelt. Instead, he is dressed smartly in some sort of World War II (though this is impossible; everyone knows the second world war and the one before that are only myths) military suit. He is also extremely tall, perfectly blond and wonderfully blue-eyed. Levi’s heart skips a beat. Is this how Cecil felt when he had first met Carlos?

 

“Hello.” The Sheriff extends a hand for Levi to shake. “Most people know me as You. Some people know me as the Sheriff of Night Vale. Even fewer know me as Erwin Smith.”

 

Levi stares at him. He almost forgets to shake the man’s hand. “Is that your real name?”

 

“That’s the name that was given to me in my old hometown, yes,” the Sheriff—no, _Erwin_ —replies. “Names make people so much easier to remember, don’t you think? I issued a mandate that all members of the Sheriff’s Secret Police must go by names. It’s rather difficult to remember people when you call them things like The Man Who Is Not Tall or The Woman Who Is Neither Blond Nor Brunette.”

 

“Well, almost everyone at the station goes by a name. My Interns, do, at least. Can’t say the same for Station Management, though.” Levi flips the switch back on. “Listeners, your friendly neighbourhood Sheriff has, indeed, made good on his proposal to visit the station. Just so everyone is on the same page, I would like to announce that the Sheriff of Night Vale is actually _You_. To make things easier to remember, let’s all just call him by his name, Erwin Smith. Erwin, what would you like to say to the citizens of Night Vale tonight?”

 

“Of course, we must start with a public service announcement.” Erwin leans forward. “Tonight is not a good night to bring your children—if you still have them, that is—to play in the Sand Wastes. No Secret Police helicopters will be hovering over the area to watch over them until the weekend because our helicopters will be busy hovering over the Dog Park, where candidates Hiram McDaniels and The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home—you need a name, my dear—will be holding Debate Number Forty-Two. If you wish to take the risk, you must face the consequence of potentially losing your children to the multi-coloured helicopters, never to see them again. Or, they may end up subjected to a terrible haircut care of Telly the Barber, who continues to roam the Sand Wastes up until this day. Oh, and please do not forget to vote wisely. We only have fifty-eight more debates to listen to until Election Day.”

 

“Thank you, Erwin,” Levi says. “Listeners, please take note. This has been a special public service announcement from the Sheriff of Night Vale himself. Also, this is no longer a story about You, because You is actually the Sheriff of Night Vale. Take this moment to quickly re-educate yourself in terms of pronoun use. Those who cannot disassociate You from the Sheriff of Night Vale must submit an application for long-term re-education to the City Council.”

 

“I do so enjoy listening to your broadcasts, Levi,” Erwin admits, shooting Intern Eren a quick smile as he accepts a glass of juice. “Ah, this is Erika’s special recipe, is it not? Old Woman Josie used to have them leave two pitchers of this in front of my trailer every morning. She was a good neighbour.”

 

“Did you hear that, listeners?” Levi pauses for dramatic effect. “Our Sheriff has spent most of his time here in Night Vale drinking juice prepared by Angels. Who do not exist, of course. Don’t be foolish into thinking that they do. Now, Erwin Smith, I believe you have something you wish to discuss with me.”

 

“I have always wanted to ask you out on a date, my dear Levi,” is Erwin’s earnest response. He is completely at ease as he delivers this admission. “I thought it would be nice to watch the flickering lights in Radon Canyon. Perhaps we’ll even figure out where they come from.”

 

“And find out whether they are or are not trying to kill us?” Levi arches an eyebrow. “That sounds fantastic. But first, I must update the listeners with a look at the Community Calendar. Monday—which is today—marks the yearly commemoration of the day Scout Master Harlan was dragged away. All Boy Scouts, regardless of rank, must pay homage by attending the secret ceremony in a secret place that is hosted by a secret organisation. Good luck figuring that shit out. On Tuesday, we have the monthly Night Vale Bake Sale. If you’re smart enough, you’ll be able to tell the poisonous pies from the non-poisonous pies. Professional health practitioner Hanji Zoe would like to reduce the number of deaths from one-hundred to fifty this year. She advises you not to worry, though; death is only a state of mind. Wednesday is, of course, still cancelled due to a scheduling error. No one has managed to figure out where exactly it belongs just yet. Thursday is Recycling Day. Your trash is obviously going to become someone else’s treasure, so be a good citizen and participate. Friday is a town-wide holiday. You are not supposed to do anything. At all. Saturday? I suppose we can have our date then, Sheriff. This has been the Community Calendar.”  

 

“Fantastic.” Perfect, perfect Erwin—Levi has been spending too much time around Cecil, clearly—simply grins at him. “I will fetch you here after your broadcast has ended. For now, I must take my leave. As you must have already seen, the hooded figures have come out of the Dog Park to participate in Debate Number Forty-Two. The citizens in attendance are beginning to feel uncomfortable due to the static noise that the hooded figures seem to be producing. Hiram’s Green Head has reportedly flown into a tizzy; he doesn’t enjoy being interrupted.”

 

“Go if you must,” Levi tells him. “Night Vale always comes first for the Sheriff’s Secret Police. We can’t afford for one of Hiram’s five heads to blow a gasket so close to Election Day.”

 

Erwin surprises him by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you on Saturday. This has been an interesting first meeting, Levi.”

 

Flushing, Levi can only gape at the Sheriff as he exits the studio. “Well, listeners, it seems like I have a date with your Sheriff a few days from now. While this can no longer be called a story about You—I’ve gone completely off-format today, and I apologise for that—I cannot help but feel that I am slowly coming close to unravelling even more mysteries about our beloved desert city. Up next, a two-hour discussion on the possibility of the existence of Titans. What are they? And how the fuck are they tall enough to climb over walls and eat people? Until next time, Night Vale. Good night.” 


End file.
